


sometimes people don't come home when they're supposed to

by sunset_phantom



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, I Made Myself Cry, No Fluff, Sunset Curve (Julie and The Phantoms), me? projecting myself onto Bobby|Trevor? more likely than you'd think tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29405784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunset_phantom/pseuds/sunset_phantom
Summary: they were supposed to be legends. crowds of people chanting their names, leaving their mark on the world with their musical legacy, lives forever changed from that night forward.they were not supposed to be laid out on hospital beds with only Bobby there to identify their bodies.
Relationships: Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Alex Mercer & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	sometimes people don't come home when they're supposed to

Bobby couldn’t remember the last time he had been forced inside of a hospital. He had sworn at a young age, 7-years-old to be exact, to keep himself as far away as he could from cold, sterile, white walls and rooms filled with beeping machines. That hadn’t changed when Luke had fallen out of a tree and snapped his forearm in middle school or the time that Reggie had drank too much of the booze stolen from his parents’ ‘secret’ stash when they were 14 and needed to have his stomach pumped. Alex may have been the anxious one but put Bobby in front of a hospital entrance and he would lose it faster than you could say _‘it’ll be okay’_. Because usually, at hospitals, things weren’t okay.

Case in point, Bobby was inside of a hospital for the first time in 10 years, and things were absolutely _not_ okay. He would have said you could ask Alex or Reg or Luke about it, but, well, they were the reason he was here. And they were the reason things would never be okay again. Because they were dead.

“We’ve been trying to contact their parents, but we haven’t had much luck so far.”

The police officer’s voice sounded far away, like he was yelling from the end of a long tunnel filled with rushing wind. The whole world felt like it had shrunk down to nothing more than this turbulent moment, everything blurry and tilted on an axis as he stared at the pale faces uncovered in front of him. One second Bobby had been flirting with the pretty waitress at The Orpheum, and the next he was being bundled out of the back door and into a police cruiser with lights flashing and sirens blaring. He had one single moment of believing that he must have finally done something illegal enough to get himself arrested, before the cop turned sympathetic eyes his way and asked if he knew where his bandmates were. Bobby had stammered out that they were getting food, and he hadn’t needed to hear the response the officer gave him. He could see it in the way the man’s face changed. Something was wrong. So wrong Bobby had let himself be led inside this cursed hospital, into a too bright elevator, and then through swinging doors that smelled faintly of ammonia and the same chemical the dead frogs in Biology were soaked in.

There had been three beds lined up side by side, covered with pristine white cloths that made Bobby’s head pound just looking at them. He didn’t need to see what was under the sheets, hadn’t asked to be exposed to this. But he was anyway.

“They didn’t have any proper forms of ID, so we need a confirmation before we can release any more info.”

“This isn’t...why can’t you call their parents?”

Bobby was shocked at the sound of his own voice. He hadn’t been sucker punched in years, but the pain radiating through his chest, choking his words, felt the same as the time he had defended Alex’s honor on the boardwalk when they were 15. He tried to clear his throat, but the blockage only seemed to grow larger until his vision was swimming and he was gasping for air.

“I’m sorry, son. We haven’t...they aren’t willing to come down here until we know for sure...”

A hysterical laugh exploded from that same tight place in his lungs. Of course, they weren’t willing to come down here. Not perfect Mr. and Mrs. Mercer who had long since started pretending Alex didn’t exist any longer. Not dysfunctional Mr. and Mrs. Peters who probably couldn’t even remember the last time they had laid eyes on Reggie. And Mr. and Mrs. Patterson? Well, Bobby was sure they would have been here, except for the fact that Luke was the only one who didn’t carry his ID around, ever. Too proud to let his parents be the one to find him, he had saved that very special role for Bobby alone. A large hand came to rest on Bobby’s shoulder, and he realized he had doubled over in his hysteria, one hand clutching the very bed Luke’s body was laid out on. He coughed, choking on his spit as he released his grip and stumbled away. There was a crease left from where his hand had been, and he focused all of his energy on studying the way the cloth dipped and draped there. Anything to avoid the washed-out face of his best friend and bandmate.

“We just need to know if you have any full identification for them. Driver’s license, passport, a school ID? Anything with their photo and name.”

Bobby’s wallet suddenly felt like an anvil in his back pocket. It was his job as the driver and holder of the collective brain cell to keep their IDs safe during shows. After Alex had lost his one too many times and Reggie had nearly flushed his down a toilet, Bobby had been designated the safest member to protect them. For once, he wished he had fought harder to keep them in Alex’s fanny pack with the rest of the seemingly endless array of necessities the drummer kept in there. A chair appeared behind him at the exact moment his knees buckled. Bobby shivered, feeling cold all over as he thought about the three smiling faces stamped onto plastic safely tucked behind his own in the beat-up scrap of leather he refused to replace. For one quick second he risked a look at the beds, nausea bubbling up as he thought about the fact that he would never see those smiles in real life ever again. All he had were the Polaroids dotting the walls of the studio and their one single professional shot plastered on the inside of those damn demos Luke had spent months busking during school hours to pay for. Demos they were supposed to sell out of tonight. Demos that were the only physical representation of Sunset Curve’s music that would ever exist. This time the sound that ripped its way out of Bobby’s heart was filled with a kind of animalistic pain he wasn’t sure he would ever stop experiencing. His hands fisted in his hair, head falling into the cradle of his elbows to block out the sight of those fucking hospital beds and their damn sheets.

“I’m sorry, son. I really am.”

The officer’s voice just barely managed to cut through the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside of him. Eyes squeezed shut, Bobby fumbled and nearly tore the already faded denim of his pants as he pulled his wallet out. Blindly, he held it out, barely breathing as he felt the officer gently remove it from his grip. He didn’t look up when it was tucked back into his fingers, just curled his fist around it until he could feel one single plastic card biting into his palm. Of course, he wouldn’t get the others back. The officer needed them for identification. Needed them for the parents, for the _families._ As if Bobby wasn’t the only family the boys had known for the last few years. As if Bobby wasn’t a part of it anymore. The loss of those cards felt sharper than the loss of the boys. Because now it was real. There was no coming back from this. The boys, _his boys,_ Alex, Luke, and Reggie, were gone. Forever. Bobby was sure he was going to be sick.

It was all too much. Too much pain and too much loss and too much for Bobby to handle. Without another word, he launched himself out of the chair and ran through the same swinging doors he had entered through. Distantly, he heard the officer call for him, but Bobby had to get out of this hospital before it killed him too. Bile crept up the back of his throat, the cold LA night air slapping him in the face just before he bent over and lost his lunch on the sidewalk in front of the hospital entrance. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with snot and spit as it dripped off his chin. His knees gave out again sending him sprawling onto the concrete. Vaguely, he realized it had started to rain, cold water seeping into the fabric of his shirt. It felt appropriate. The sky weeping along with the lost soul of a teenaged boy alone for the first time in years. Bobby raised his face to the sky and screamed with every last scrap of energy he possessed.

The officer found him there some time later. Bobby wasn’t sure how long he had sat in the rain. Long enough to be chilled and soaking to the bone. Not nearly long enough to erase the things he had seen in that cursed white room.

“We’ve sent officers to their parents houses. Let me see if I can find something dry for you to change into while you wait. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you.”

Bobby was already shaking his head, stumbling to his feet and farther away from the bright lights that taunted him in the hospital windows. He turned his head and spit forcefully before pulling his suit of armor on and facing the older man. Inside, he was falling apart. Outside, he was nothing but a blank stare.

“No, I’m fine. I’m not staying. You got what you needed right? I’m free to go?”

“Uhm....yeah, yeah we got it. But, son, I’m sure they’ll-”

Bobby whirled, cutting the man off as his fists clenched and stomach lurched.

“I’m not your son! And I’m sure as hell not sticking around to watch some assholes pretend like they actually care now that their kids are dead! I’m fucking _out of here!”_

If it was a choice between fighting, freezing, or fleeing, Bobby typically chose to fight. Someone had to stick up for the boys, and Bobby knew they would choose to freeze or flee. That left him as the protector. Except that there wasn’t anything left to protect anymore. They were _gone._ Just like Bobby was about to be. Without waiting for a response from the officer, he turned on his heel and took off into the night. The blackness swallowed him up quickly until the only sound was the rain on the ground and his feet pounding into the pavement. Every step carried him farther away from his past. Away from the boys, away from the band, away from the pain that would haunt him for the rest of his goddamn life. He ran until he was back outside of The Orpheum, staring up at their name in lights. His car was still parked in the alley out back. Bobby let himself into the driver’s seat, catching glimpses of the extra bags in the back and Luke’s spare guitar. The sight unleashed a torrent of tears so thick Bobby thought he would drown in them. Reggie’s backpack tucked into his lap, Alex’s drumsticks curled in his fist, one of Luke’s beanie’s covering his wet hair, Bobby wept for what felt like hours.

And when he finally dehydrated himself and was left with nothing but a pounding headache and scratchy eyes, Bobby started the car and made his way to the studio. Alone. The winding streets were familiar enough that he didn’t have to think about his path, muscle memory leading the way. The doors opened with a familiar squeak; the space set up exactly as they had left it in their rush to get to the show on time. Bobby sat down on Luke’s couch, inhaling deeply as the old cushions let out a wheeze. A photo of the four of them draped over each other was pinned on the wall across from him. He stared at it, memorizing their faces, promising himself he would never forget his brothers. They were supposed to be legends. And if Bobby had anything to say about it, they still would be. Their legacy would live on in him. No matter what it took, he would not let this world make him forget. He would meet his boys again someday. Until that day came, he had their music and their memories. He fell asleep with the photo tucked underneath his head.

_I’ll meet you in the sunset, boys. Wait for me beyond the curve._

Bobby never went inside a hospital again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was heavily inspired by my own fear of dying in a hospital as well as a post I wrote on my tumblr reflecting on my own experiences of losing friends too young. Brought to you by COVID anxiety and not enough sleep. And yes, I will be a Bobby|Trevor apologist until the day I die. My boy made mistakes but grief makes you do things you would never think you could.


End file.
